The Life Behind The Leaf. Papua New Guinea

Getting There Puts Things in Perspective

It is over twenty years since I travelled to Papua New Guinea, but the route is still clear in my mind. From Cairns to Port Moresby where I jumped on a Twin Otter with about 20 other passengers, mostly miners and missionaries.  We climbed steadily up into the Western Highlands before finally landing in Mount Hagen.

It is not a journey you forget, partly because it is long and remote, and partly because it reminds you very quickly that tea does not come from anywhere convenient. Distance, altitude, weather, and infrastructure all make themselves felt before you have even set foot on an estate.

I arrived late that night, checked in, and headed up to my room, only to discover that someone else was already in it, fast asleep...

Tok Pisin

Whenever I travelled somewhere on a tea mission, I would try and learn a few words of the local language.  In PNG, one way of communicating is "Tok Pisin" - a mixture of English and local languages.  I love some of the words and phrases.

Long morningtaim mi wokim ti bilong me  -  In the morning I made myself tea.

Soks bilong han - Gloves!

Lukautim - Take care of, look after

Go isi isi - Go slowly

Lukim yu gen - Goodbye.

The Tea

Papua New Guinea is more famous for its coffee than its tea.  I was visiting the Carpenters estates, their names, etched in my memory, Aviamp, Kindeng and Kudjip.  When I visited, a significant chunk of the their tea was being shipped to Australia where it took to the water well. 

Actually being on the ground made a huge difference.  Meeting the team for the first time (who I had only ever dealt with over email), whilst experiencing the location and its remoteness inevitably enhanced our mutual understanding.  Definitely worth the trip.  

Hospitality

One memory stood out above the others though.  I have been accustomed to tea estate hospitality all my working life.  The way you can't leave the dining room table without having thirds (or more likely fourths!);  the patience in answering questions (that have been asked a hundred times before); or the generosity with time after a long day (over a cuppa or something stronger).

The memory?  One evening, the estate manager invited me out to dinner. His daughter joined us, as she was flying back to boarding school in Australia the following day.

It was a warm, generous meal, but it carried a quiet weight. This was clearly an important moment for them, a pause before another long separation, and I was aware that I was present at something personal. Any sense of discomfort was mine alone, a private awareness of being a guest at a family moment that mattered.

It was a reminder that tea estates are not just systems of production. Families live there. Decisions are made there. Sacrifices sit alongside opportunity.

For anyone reading this at home, with a warm cup close to hand, it is worth pausing for a moment. Behind that tea sit journeys, remote places, and people who open their homes generously to strangers. Tea travels a long way, not just in miles, but through lives shaped by place, work, and quiet hospitality.